Taking the first step

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up? The hairdresser had asked several questions, and tired of getting various grunts as all answer, had decided to switch to another topic.

The boy moved nervously in the chair and eyed wearily at his mother. Sitting in a nearby chair, she was the perfect picture of indifference, not even glancing in his direction. But he knew better than to be fooled by appearances. She was listening.

Luckily, the boy knew the answer to this one: “I’m gonna be a lawyer.” He felt proud, normally, he stumbled on his tongue or even worse, say some utterly unacceptable profession.

The hairdresser smiled at him. “A lawyer, huh. You have to study hard for that. The boy nodded, not wanting to speak any longer. He stole an anxious look to his right. Then, he suddenly remembered his manners and smiled politely at the woman behind him.

Having passed the test, he relaxed and focused on his own reflection. His long curls were getting shorter and shorter which each cut. He had dared asked for just a trim, but the scorching gaze at the back of his head had made him change his mind last minute. 

Now they were walking back home together. His mother had praised the hairdresser before leaving, giving her the loveliest of smiles. But she didn’t smile now.

“You look terrible. This is the last time I let that disastrous woman near your hair.” She moved his head up and down, looking at his freshly cut hair from various perspectives.

He mused. “Well, maybe if we hadn’t insisted on cutting so much, it’ll look better.”

She shook her head sharply at him. “I know what’s best for you. And no son of mine will be caught dead with messy and unruly curls as he was some kind of…” A word seemed to form in her mouth, but then she shook her head again as if trying to get rid of it, and the sentence was left unfinished. 

“By the way,” her eyes were again staring at him sharply, “you shouldn’t have told that woman that you want to be a lawyer.”

The boy looked at her in confusion. Her mother had looked pleased when he told her and dad that he wanted to be one. “But why?”

“You never reveal your hopes to others.” She started. “Because if you don’t achieve them,” she paused and the boy heard the true meaning behind her words, if you fail, “and end up cleaning stairs, she will laugh at you.”

He felt the words in his heart, like a stone against a window, a small crack forming in it. Still, he forced himself to smile “Yes, mum.”

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“So, mum,” he started tentatively, “isn’t it funny how, as a child, I did so many activities, but never stuck with any of them.”

She barely acknowledged his words. “How so?”

“Well… When I was six I went to swimming lessons for over a year, then switched to tennis for three months, painting, rock climbing, Spanish, soccer, drama, fencing, badminton, capoeira, programing… lock picking…

“That was your father’s doing” Only if she had spitted the words into her coffee, could she have made the words more poisonous.

“Yes, of course. But never mind that. My point is, I never stayed for more than a year. Except for, of course, my French lessons.”

“French is a powerful language, I never had the chance to learn it, and I regret it immensely.”

He beamed at that. “Yes! I didn’t like it at first, but when I was skilled enough to speak it, I learned to love French. That’s why I was thinking…” He felt the danger in his skin. Even though his mother hadn’t moved an inch, there was something different in the air. He gulped. “I was thinking that I could study that, at university I mean. French has been the only stable subject in my life. I’ve been studying it for over twelve years, and it seems like a waste to just… drop it. I’d like to study abroad, in France.”

Silence. He had kept his tone relaxed and carefree as if this thought had just occurred to him, as he hadn’t been thinking of this moment for almost two years. He had planned for numerous ways his mother could respond. But silence? This cold silence was too much, and he fiddled nervously with his shirt.  

When the silence was simply unbearable, he dared to add softly: “French is one of the few things I love.”

And silence was bad, but words were worse. She rose her head and met his eyes, not twitching in the slightest, and said: “Then I wish I had never signed you up for French lessons.”

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“Dude, this dish is simply amazing!” Anne looked overjoyed and he felt happy knowing that she was happy. “Why haven’t we come to this place before?”

“I tried to tell you, but you never listen to my wise words.”

“That’s because you let yourself be pushed around. You’re weak-willed, you know? No offense.”

“None-taken” Anne was right, of course. But that didn’t matter. “So, how was the trip? I want to know everything.”

She shallowed frenetically “Oh man! Best week of my life. I think Poland was the best. Amsterdam and Germany were pretty, pretty expensive too. Did Lucas tell you about Michael? We had a fight. It was just a misunderstanding, but he was furious. Honestly, I didn’t know he could be so… let’s say stubborn. He did say some nice thing about you though.”

“Did he now?” That piqued his curiosity. “What did he say?”

“He kept going on and on about where you to be there, you would have been on his side. Something about your calming presence or something. Pretty cute if you ask me.” She laughed a little. “We had fun, but it would have been better if you had come.”

“You know that my mother…” Anne's expression turned serious in an instant. “What?”

She moved her body nervously “I didn’t tell you sooner because we were all very stressed out with exams and all that, but your mother called my mom. When we were preparing for the trip, I mean. Well, so she called her and basically said that there was no way in hell that you were going to Europe, and that if she had to harm herself to get hospitalized to achieve it, she would do it.

He let Anne finish, and grabbed his glass, looking at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

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The word was solid and absolute: “No.”

He sighed. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion or your consent. I was merely letting you know.”

“No.” She repeated. “You are not going.”

The suitcase was still open, and he reached to close it. “Listen, I understand that this is hard.” The dammed thing wouldn’t close. “But this is my life,” Maybe if he put all of his weight? “And I’m an adult now. And is my money.” Better, but still not enough. “I have already signed and paid.” Almost there. “This is how it is: I’ve made my decision, and there’s nothing that you can do to stop it.” Closed.

When he grabbed the luggage, her mother was at the front door. “Please.” She looked desperate. “Don’t leave.”

He gathered all his strength and said: “No. I’ve already told you: I’m going, whether you like it or not. Now move, or I’ll have to move you.”

At first, she just looked at him, as if judging whether he was serious or not. He didn’t avert his gaze. Then, she slowly moved and freed the exit.

He reached for the door know and pushed it. She grabbed his shoulder, a silent plea.

This almost made him turn back. Almost. Then, he gently took her hand off and took the first step out of the house.